A Hawk In Danger
by Jazzysauce
Summary: It's pretty obvious that Clint's a son of Apollo. But what's his story? Rating for language, if you can't handle it, don't read. Note: updates may take a few months. They may also take a mere two days. It depends on my mood, my schedule, and how much you guys encourage me.
1. Prologue

**So this is a new idea I had. One of a kind. At least in English. I hope you guys enjoy it. If not, well, I honestly don't care. You won't discourage me. Rated for language. Feel free to criticize. Oh yeah, I don't own any characters, events, or anything you recognize from The Avengers or Percy Jackson. Written from Clint's 3rd person limited POV.**

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Clint dashed between the tents of the circus, gripping his bow desperately. It was the third time this happened this month. And it was the third fucking day of the month. Usually, there were at least a few days between... incidents. California was just bad news. He knew it, too. And no matter how awesome he was with his bow, it never helped in these situations. His arrows would just fly right through them. And it scared him. Because if his arrows flew right through them, then they would have to be ghosts. Except ghosts couldn't interact with the world around them. Ghosts couldn't nearly claw his face off. (That one had been difficult to explain to Barney.) Ghosts should be of things that had at least _existed_ at some point or another. But they looked... Almost mythical. This one, for example, looked like some kind of ugly snake lady. Not like Medusa or anything. Her legs were snakes. Clint almost felt bad for the poor guys. It couldn't be pleasant, having to be around that stench all day long. But there wasn't much time at all to feel anything.

Clint ducked, barely getting out of the way in time to save his beautiful hair from getting chopped off. Yeah, it needed a cut, but not like _that_. He thought out a quick but effective plan while still running and ducked into his and Barney's trailer, praying to anyone listening that his brother wasn't there. Clint grabbed his quiver of wooden arrows (that had been tough to explain also. Everyone wanted to know why he was wasting time carving out crude arrows from sticks when he had a quiver full of perfectly good steel tip arrows already.) and swung it over his head before swiftly pulling one out and aiming. He aimed right at the eye of the hideous lady slithering right at him (huh. There's a thought you don't think every day), breathed out, and let go. Even with the badly shaped arrow, his aim was true. It whistled through the air and planted itself in the snake lady's right eyeball with a thud. Clint let out a breath. The thing was dead. Even though steel couldn't seem to affect these guys, wood seemed to work well enough. He found out when he dropped a wooden crate on the first to attack him and successfully squished it. Thankfully, clean up wasn't too hard, either. They all just turned into this weird, yellow-brown dust that blended into the ground well enough, leaving his arrow in the middle of the pile. Clint wasn't about to question it though. Who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth? He bent down to pick up the arrow and stuck it back in his second quiver.

Clint ran his hand through his hair. This was getting ridiculous. He'd been lucky so far, what with the... _things_ only coming when everyone else was either asleep or away. But his luck wouldn't hold. It never did. In fact, he was surprised to have any luck at all. One day, someone else would get hurt. Clint couldn't let that happen. Especially since it was pretty obvious that they were after him. The constant chasing of him may or may not have been the big clue to that. There was only one solution to this, at least one which didn't involve him dying. The archer ducked inside his trailer and stuffed some clothes in his bag along with his secret stash of money and made sure his pocket knife was in his pocket. He didn't look back when he left.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: To my first reviewer of this story, Guest, I'd first like to say thank you! That's a really big compliment for me. Also, Natasha won't be in this much. Maybe I'll include the Avengers later on, but for now, it's just Clint. A few other demigods will play a big part in the story (guess who), but I haven't even thought of including the Avengers.**

**Because I didn't include this in the last chapter, Clint is 13 right now. I'm sorry, I could've sworn I wrote it somewhere I thought it so much.**

**I DID IT BEFORE SOMEONE CAUGHT ME! I don't own anything in this except for the idea. The characters belong to other people, anything you recognize isn't mine unless you've read this before.**

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There. Right in front of him. A deliciously juicy looking rack of ribs. His stomach growled uncomfortably, reminding him ever so helpfully how hungry he was. Especially because he hadn't had a full meal in two weeks, since he bailed on the circus gig. Going on the run was a lot harder than Clint thought. You could never be guaranteed food. Sleep was a blessing whenever it happened. But the worst part had to be the things that kept following him. A few would even disguise themselves as normal kids, his age, and pretend to befriend him before trying to kill him. After the fourth time, Clint just gave up entirely on trusting people.

But this was something different entirely. It was _food_. Free for him to take. He just had to be fast enough. Or... Clint licked his lips in anticipation. A distraction would work just as well, right? If he could... Yeah. That should work. He picked up a rock and pocketed it, but before he could continue, he noticed another kid going for the same stack of ribs. Sandy blonde hair, around his age. And looking at him from a dark alley were two pairs of eyes filled with hope. Clint breathed out disappointedly. The kids obviously needed it more than him. And Blondie was obviously more skilled than him, too, based on the light way he stepped. He'd... he'd just go for the next one. Yeah.

Clint growled in frustration. There wouldn't be a next one. And he knew it. But the kid had already managed to get it without anyone noticing, well, except for him. He ran his hands through his hair. Man, it _really _needed a cut. It was starting to fall into his eyes, which was ever so helpful when he was trying to aim silently. Looking back up to the alley, Clint noticed a flash of movement. The kids had retreated to the alley for their feast. It was actually a lot of food for three starved kids. Maybe they wouldn't notice if he snuck some?

"C'mon, Leroy," he muttered, gripping his bow. "Let's get us some dinner."

**LINE BREAK LAAA LA LA LA LAAAAAAAAAAA**

_That_ plan didn't work out so well.

The kids noticed him easily, even though he was being _super_ quiet. It was almost like they had heightened senses or something. As soon as the oldest, the boy he had seen earlier, saw him, Clint dashed forward and grabbed two ribs, then ran away. As he ran, he glanced over his shoulder to see the boy holding back the two younger girls and giving him a nod. The boy must understand. Or maybe he saw Clint earlier. Either way, he wasn't about to stay and find out.

The two girls, meanwhile- well, the one looked murderous. Probably because he was taking their food. Her electric blue eyes pierced through him, cutting him like a knife. She was maybe a little younger than him. The other girl, the little kid with bleached blonde hair, stared at him with curious grey eyes. It was like she was searching him for something. Something he probably didn't have. Clint tore his eyes from the strange threesome and he ran. Three against one were never good odds, if they decided to fight him.

As soon as he was out of eyesight though, Clint turned around and climbed up to a roof. These kids helped him. No matter how much he refused to trust them, he would still keep an eye on them. Just in case.

**HERE'S ANOTHER WHOO HOOOO**

Clint followed the group around for the next few days from the roofs and trees. The boy must've noticed, because there was always extra food left behind when they had a meal. And then one day, when the girls were sleeping by a fire while the boy kept watch, he was called out.

"You know, I never understood why you don't just join us," he said. Clint started slightly, but kept quiet. "You're like us," the boy continued. "We can work together." When he didn't get a reply, the boy sighed. "Just know the offer stands." He pulled out a bronze knife and started sharpening a stick. It wasn't until a few minutes later that Clint noticed he was making an arrow.

**LOOOOLLLLLAAAAAA LO-LO-LO-LO-LOOOLLLLAAAAA**

Clint woke up to the sounds of fighting. Damn. He fell asleep in his tree. That wasn't supposed to happen. He sat up, suddenly alert, and did what he did best. Observe.

Of course, it was another of the not-ghosts. Except this one was bigger than any he had faced before. Much bigger. It was attacking the boy and girls. It looked like they were caught off guard, maybe it woke them up. The boy and little girl were fighting sluggishly with their bronze knives while scary girl became a whole lot scarier with a shield that Clint had never seen before. Most likely, it was so scary because of the design of Medusa on it. All in all, Clint resolved to keep as far away from it as he could. He shook himself out of his shield induced stupor and readied his bow and one of his wooden arrows, aiming carefully. Everyone was moving around quickly and he didn't want to risk hurting one of his potential friends. He pulled back and let his arrow fly solidly into the big guy's forehead. The surprise of his attack was enough to stop all fighting for a few moments, and he took the chance to shoot another three arrows at once at where the thing's heart should be. But... nothing happened. It was perfectly fine, if maybe a bit angrier. And now its anger was directed at him. _Shit. _Clint jumped down, landing lightly on his feet and narrowly avoiding the thing's charge at his tree. It knocked the entire thing down easily.

"I heard there's an empty spot," Clint quipped, half joking, half serious. The boy smiled.

"Yeah. Just help us with this monster and we'll move on to the introductions." Clint detected a note of fear in his voice.

"I'm way ahead of you," Clint responded, pulling an arrow back defensively. He glanced around for a plan, as his wooden arrows were obviously not cutting it. The thing- _monster,_ as the boy called it- was still trying to get its horn unstuck from Clint's tree. So it was strong, but not too bright. In stark contrast to its tidy whities. It probably relied on force. Giving Clint an idea.

"Try to get it charging at a big tree," he ordered as it finally freed itself. "It should get itself stuck again, then we can attack."

Surprisingly, everyone listened to him. Probably because they didn't have a better plan.

it was no surprise to Clint that he was charged by Big, Bad, and Ugly first. He ran just slow enough that it could almost keep up towards a tree. At the last second, he pushed off the ground, kicked away from the tree, and executed a perfect flip over Ugly's head. Of course, it kept on charging straight at the tree. While it was buried horn deep in the bark, the boy came over and stabbed it with his knife. And it immediately dissolved into the customary golden dust.

"I'm Luke," the boy panted, holding out a hand. After a moment of consideration, Clint smiled and returned the gesture.

"Clint," he replied.

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**A/N: Yes, I named Clint's bow Leroy. Because it sounded right. Because everything I own or even just use that is of equal or more value to me has a name. My saxophones are Celeste and Artemis. My flute is Felicity. My trumpet is Johnny. My synthesizer is Cynthia. So if you're wondering who Leroy is, it's Clint's bow.**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Annabeth won't be too important in this. She won't go on quests with Percy. Except maybe the Labyrinth… And because of this, the probably won't get together.**

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Yeah, Clint didn't do groups so much anymore. At all. But there was something… different about these kids. Plus, Luke had been leaving food for him before he'd joined their mini glee club, so that was reason enough to believe that he wouldn't be left behind. They'd already fought together, so he knew that wasn't a problem. His only problem was with trusting them.

Luke seemed pretty awesome. He was pretty accepting of Clint's choice of weapon too, never making fun of it. He would even sit down with Clint at times and whittle more wooden arrows with him.

The older girl, Thalia, was also pretty cool, in her own punk-goth way. She only owned t-shirts with either album covers or band names, and Clint could've sworn he'd seen one or two with headless Barbie dolls on them. Her extremely creepy shield was disguised as a silver chain bracelet, which Clint was thankful for since he didn't want to spend any more time than he had to looking at the thing. Thalia was always making fun of Clint's bow, but ever since he shot an arrow through the apple she was raising to her mouth without even looking the first time it happened, she admitted that he was freaking awesome with it. Now she always made fun of Leroy with a teasing smirk. And he always responded by shooting an arrow threateningly close to her head, but she trusted his skill to not accidentally kill her.

Last but not least was the youngest, a girl named Annabeth. She seemed innocent enough, but she was tough and determined to not give the others a chance to put her on the sidelines. She was furious with her dagger, easily holding her own against as many monsters as the older kids. She was a fighter, that was for sure. And her mind was even stronger than her fighting skills. Annabeth was usually the first to think up a strategy for anything, only occasionally bested by Clint. And that was only because he'd been having to think fast for a few years now. She was enchanted by Clint, often following him around like a lost puppy. She asked him questions whenever they came to her, showing her curiosity without shame. Clint would just grin widely and answer her questions, even teaching her how to shoot his bow. He couldn't refuse her anything when she looked up at him, her impossibly grey eyes sparking with endless curiosity.

He had already learned so much from the three. The things that had been chasing him since he and Barn ran away from the orphanage when he was nine? They were monsters. From Greek mythology, to be exact. And the reason why they were coming after him specifically for so long? It was because of his dad. Not the drunk he thought was his father, the one who hit him and Barney. Not Harold. But his dad, who was a Greek god. The rest were the same as him, one of their parents was a Greek god or goddess. Luke supposed that Clint's dad was Apollo, considering his perfect aim. Thalia already knew her dad was Zeus. The thunder was a kind of obvious clue. Luke's mom had told him countless times that his dad was Hermes. And everyone was almost positive that Annabeth's mom was Athena.

But Clint still couldn't trust them. He wouldn't trust them. Every time he'd met someone since he'd run away from the circus, they'd ended up being monsters trying to kill him. The better this situation seemed, the more suspicious he got. He still hadn't told them about his hearing aids, or his past in the circus. He still hadn't shared any information on his brother. He always slept up high, usually in a tree, not trusting them to watch his back. He always held back when they were moving, making sure he could see all of them at all times. He always offered to take first watch when they stopped for rest. He tried to keep himself distanced from them, because when they turned out to be monsters, it would hurt less. They knew that he was an archer and an acrobat. That was all they needed to know.

So Clint followed the merry band of travelers around for the next few weeks, Annabeth often skipping around at his side. Whenever she decided to race around Luke for a while instead, Thalia would always keep him company. Their relationship was more of a love-hate one. The two loved to spite each other as much as possible. Thalia already had a slew of nicknames figured out for the archer, her favorite being Legolas and Robin Hood. Clint had a few for her too, but hey, it's not his fault there aren't any big lightning-summoning females in pop culture.

As they headed north (it was getting too warm down south), fighting monsters along the way, they bonded. Clint told them about how he made his way east at what was apparently an amazingly fast pace. To Clint, it was normal. The circus was always moving all over looking for business. He'd personally been through the continental US and parts of Canada three or four times now. But he didn't say any of this. He just shrugged in response to their questions.

In return, Luke, Thalia, and Annabeth shared stories of how they met. With every monster they beat, they grew closer together. A few dozen snake ladies, which he learned were called Scythian Dracanae. A few girls with one donkey leg and one mechanical leg, called Empousa. Enormous mastiffs called Hellhounds. An oversized scorpion, simply called a Giant Scorpion. An oversized dude with a babycakes tattoo that threw fiery cannonballs at them, called a Laistrygonian Giant according to Annabeth. A sphinx, which Annabeth calmed by answering its question correctly. They even came across a Giant Eagle trapped in a bear trap, cawing loudly. Clint went right up to it and helped free its clawed foot, understanding the need to be free to go where you want, when you want. To say the least, they now had a new friend willing to get them out of a tight spot. Clint liked to call him Sammy.

One day, as they were fighting yet another Hellhound with well-practiced moves, something strange happened.

Even for them.

Clint was crouched in a tree, bow string pulled back and ready to take the kill shot. Annabeth and Luke were a ways back, ready to jump in if they were needed. Thalia was right up front, distracting the monster with her terrifying shield and spear. Clint took a breath as he aimed. A swoosh was heard, followed by a thump as an arrow hit its target.

Clint lowered his bow in confusion. There was an arrow sticking out of the enormous dog's hide… but it wasn't his. He was still holding an arrow in his hand. Also, this arrow was silver. Shaft and all. Clint scampered down his tree and quickly approached the monster, now golden dust, to examine the arrow. The tip… it was metal. Looked like some kind of silver. So how did it kill the thing? Clint turned around, still examining the silver arrow in wonder, only to find another one… aimed right at his face. Even worse, somehow, was the enraged and furiously indignant expression on the girl holding her bow an inch from his face. Instinctively, Clint jumped back. Her narrowed eyes followed him in a sharp glare.

"How dare you touch the property of the Hunters of Artemis, you filthy male!"

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**A/N: I thought I'd leave you with a bit of a cliffie. Why not, my brain says. And guess what controls all parts of my body? This is more of a filler than anything else. Bonding between the four friends. Sammy joins the party. That was kinda impulsive of me. But I like it.**


	4. AN: Sorry

Gosh I apologize for the false alarm, I hate those, but I also like to know what's going on, and I feel like you guys deserve to know. So.

Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I've been caught up in random story ideas all summer, and my grandpa hasn't been doing so good, then band started, then my grandpa died, and now school started, so I have a total of 15 hours for homework, friends, and everything, for the entire week, and I'll pretty much be busy af until November, and I have no clue what's going on with my grandpa, so if I don't update for a while longer, please understand? Remember, I don't abandon! This isn't done yet!

-Jazzysauce


	5. A Sincere Apology

Hey guys. I know it's been a while, and I just wanted to let you know it's gonna be a while longer. I feel I owe you an explanation, so here goes:

Basically, I've been let down and put out in just about every way possible in the past year and a half, at least for someone so young. As you know, it started with my one grandpa dying. I was in a pretty bad funk because of that, because I was really close to him. He was probably one of the most genuinely good people in the world. Excuse the bias please. But I loved him, and just as I was getting over his death, and starting my first job, my other grandpa died. In fact, the morning we got the call I was getting ready for my job orientation. (I later got a bloody nose, which made an already bad day worse.) What a great start to summer, amirite? Over the next two months, my great uncle Jeff died too, and I'm 90% sure there was someone else but I have no clue who. To top off the _best_ summer ever, nine days before school started up again, my cat died. So yeah, that sucked. Since then, thankfully no one else in my family has died, but I've been beyond busy with band. You see, we went to london for New Year's Day. And throughout all that chaos, when I hadn't been on my computer in months except for schoolwork, as I was trying to print off a paper for english, it just crashed. When I tried to turn it back on, I just got a black screen with a blinking line. The hard drived crashed, irreparable, and I had to get a completely new one. Which means everything that was on my computer, including all my current and past works and even ideas or references I had jotted down are completely gone. Nothing could be recovered. That was a real blow to my writing spirit.

Basically, I have nothing more than what I've posted here, and what I've shared with my friend Ray. I'll try to spend what little free time I have picking all the pieces of my writing out of the hundreds of messages we've exchanged, but don't expect anything. I'll try to get everything I remember down, but don't expect anything. I'll spend the next few years jotting down my thoughts again, and trying to build up my computer to what it used to be, but _don't expect anything_. I win post anything new for a while probably. I'm sorry to disappoint. I will do my best to keep up my promise and finish my stories, but it might take me a while to even get anything new up. Thank you for your patience, and again, I'm sorry.

-Jazzy


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